The Marauders' Tuition
by You'll Never Write Alone YNWA
Summary: Sirius decides that Harry is too serious for his own good. He decides to stay in Britain to help the heir of Marauders learn to prank his way through to eternal infamy. Slow updates. Ch3: I didn't do it! The Alibis of nested pranks and public perception
1. Chapter 1

**Sirius' Detour**

A/N: I present yet another story, marking my first foray into humour. This one is inspired from **_A Marauder's Plan_** by catsarecool. Well, the premise is. This is not a parody of that story. Sirius, instead of going to wherever there is that the coloured birds spring from, remains in England, upon coming to the disappointing realisation that apart from getting into trouble – not off his own accord – Harry is not a Marauder. No Lords, Ladies, Houses, and all that. I have written that a lot. This is Harry, as he would be if Sirius had raised him. Or so I think. The recognisable parts are not mine. Harry Potter is not either. The story is, though. And yes, everybody is a caricature at some point during the story, including the narrator.

* * *

 _But Black was still staring down at Harry._

 _"How can I ever thank –"_

 _"GO!" Harry and Hermione shouted together._

 _Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky._

* * *

And the Sirius realised that he was leaving Harry all over again. Unlike last time he had no choice, but to leave. He scrutinised his godson for a split second. Everything he had seen this year told him that Harry was an upstanding person. But he was too serious. Harry was not supposed to be serious! Sirius was supposed to be serious – er – Sirius! He might have left his godson twelve – nearly thirteen years ago, but now, he needed to ensure that Harry got to be a teenager at least.

He might not have a choice but to leave. He did have a choice regarding where to go though.

"Bugger that time and all!" decided Sirius. "Oi Kid!" he called out. "Where do you live during the summers? For the most part, that is? You ran away last year and I saw you leave Little Whinging on the Knight Bus, but otherwise..."

"The Dursleys," Harry answered. "The House is at 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey. I am usually cast away to that place for most of the time. The Weasleys did break me out once and last year I blew up Marge-"

"-the barge," completed his godfather. "Oh! Ickle Harry lives with Aunty Mare and Uncle Walrus!" Sirius guffawed. "Look for me in a fortnight once you leave for that place kid!" he added with a wink. "Just because I can't take you to live with me yet doesn't mean that I'll just up and leave. One fortnight will be enough to prank the Ministry! Bye!"

Harry who was becoming increasingly downcast because Sirius was his last real hope for a family, perked up. That was an understatement. He blew up with happiness if that was possible and gave his godfather a very, very happy smile, which then dimmed slightly. "It's not necessary Sirius. Just don't get caught!"

"Don't you worry kid!" assured Sirius. This was what he saw. Harry really was too serious. "Come next year, I solemnly swear that you will be able to prove that you are truly your father's son!"

Harry was Siriusly reassured. He just grinned as the ex-prisoner and his steed flew into the night sky.

Whirling around to Hermione, Harry couldn't help but gush, "He will be around! He will be around, Hermione! He isn't going!"

Without much thought, he took the first step onto the path to Marauder-dom. He gathered Hermione and just kissed her smack on the mouth. Hermione froze for a microsecond, and then kissed him back greedily. And then he realised what he had just done. Stepping back a bit he looked at her in awe.

"I didn't mess up, did I?"

"Given that I did kiss you back, I don't think you did," Hermione dryly retorted.

Harry grinned. "One more?" he asked cheekily.

"I wouldn't say no, b – mmphf!" She was cut off by another kiss.

When they broke off, Hermione leaned back and punched Harry on the nose. "Listen to me, you idiot! We are running out of time!"

"Oh!" Hermione could only roll her eyes in fond exasperation.

As they ran to the castle, Hermione couldn't help but shudder at the thought of Sirius Black, Marauder and godfather – one of the Weasley Twins' heroes – teaching Harry to be like James Potter, Marauder and father. She just prayed that Hogwarts would survive. That didn't stop her from giggling madly into her pillows later that night like a teenage girl with a first – well, second, considering Lockhart – crush.

* * *

Sirius landed Buckbeak on the outskirts of the Black family estate in Hexworthy, Devonshire. He had hollered and laughed and whooped as the two flew a distance of nearly a thousand kilometres in two days. The poor creature gave the grim animagus a baleful glare, its state beleaguered by the sheer amount of flying and load-carrying.

"Hehe...sorry there, Beaky," he apologised to the Hippogriff which cocked its head at him as if to ask whether he was mad. "You may be right, you know," Sirius muttered in answer.

Deciding that he didn't want to stay around this mad human, Buckbeak realised that the motivation to fly away superseded the tiredness. With a squawk, he flew away.

"Yes! Be like that!" Sirius hollered at him from the ground with a shaking fist. "Ruddy stupid, half-bird, with less than half a bird's brain!" was the follow-up insult.

Tired though he was, Buckbeak still took that as an insult, which it was and diverted his flight path and swooped down towards the foolish human.

"Oh hell," muttered the mutt, before rushing into the house to stave off the stupid thing. It was a bloody monster! "Bloody hell!" he swore. "That thing made me agree with the poncy white-haired member of Voldemort's Harem." Turning back to the hippogriff, he yelled, "YOU ARE EVIL, BUCKBEAK! DID YOU KNOW THAT? YOU ARE SERIOUSLY EVIL!"

He then slid down to the ground out of sheer tiredness, and before long, transformed into Padfoot and dozed away.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the Hogwarts Express, Harry and Hermione were dealing with a seriously miffed redhead.

"How could you do that to me, Harry?" Ron asked with extreme petulance.

It was taking time to rear its head, but Harry's Marauder side decided that it was time to wake at last. He looked at Ron with an extremely stunned face, trying to formulate an answer as much in keeping with what Sirius and Professor Lupin had said his father would have given. It took a little time, but it did strike him.

Managing to somehow assume a horror-struck and contrite expression at the same time, he replied, "I am sorry Ron. I truly didn't know that you liked me like that." Hermione, who had turned a bit angry at his first sentence, was now trying to not gag or laugh at the second. "I mean," Harry continued shamelessly, bolstered by the sheer achievement of striking Ron dumb, "I knew Ginny had a crush on me, but I didn't know it was like that for you too."

Ron, who had turned red in anger, was now turning an ashen grey. He flapped his mouth open and close, for a change, without food in it – not that it improved the beauty of the scene by even an iota – before croaking out, "No! I don't like you that way!"

"Oh thank heavens!" was the prompt reply. Now that the ruse had started, the direction in which Harry needed to prank Ron or shepherd the conversation in became clear. The words flowed automatically. "I mean, honestly, I knew I would have to let Malfoy down gently one day, but I wouldn't have known how to do so in your case without hurting your feelings mate."

Ron started to froth at the mouth in horror at this. If the horrible images Harry was inducing initially weren't enough, he was now comparing Ron to Draco. There reined a prolonged and awkward silence in the compartment for the next fifteen minutes, with Ron convulsing invisibly, Harry looking at him with pity, and Hermione doing her damnedest to not laugh.

Ron ended that silence by tasting his shoes again. "You are practising, aren't you? You are using her as a practice girlfriend!" This time, there was awe in his voice as he stared at Harry in wonder, doubtlessly astounded by the 'brilliance' of the _plan_.

Hermione seemed ready to blow her top and start a rant in defence of her relationship with Harry, against Ron for thinking of her as sub-par in some way and for his very words. Harry looked at his friend in pity. Why Ron would say that was beyond him. But he could ask why later. He had to stop Hermione, and save the idiot. Right now, a voice in his head was feeding him what seemed to be the sincerest thing he could say.

"You know what Ron, you are right! I am using her for practice."

Hermione, who was working up quite some steam, looked very hurt and crestfallen at the words. She hadn't expected that from Harry. Ron looked smug.

Harry continued nevertheless. "You know what they say, 'practice makes man perfect'. Well I want to be perfect for Hermione Granger. Who better to show me how to be perfect for her than Hermione herself?"

Ron's jaws fell open again, as did Hermione's – though, to be fair, she also had tears in her eyes. The voice in his head which had been feeding him that line suddenly shut up. Harry cursed his inner stupid. It relinquished control of him only once he had bollixed things up massively. A snide voice now told him that he was about to lose both his best friends.

The next second, he was being glomped into a hug by Hermione. Stranglehold would probably be the technically correct term. It was rather evident that whatever he said had worked. Harry was patting himself on the back mentally, while the voice which had prompted him to say what he did crowed in triumph. Now that he thought of it, it sounded suspiciously like Sirius'. _"Bloody hell!"_ he mused. _"It f-ing worked!"_ Not even a moment later, he was rewarded with an absolutely mind-blowing kiss (for a thirteen-year-old that is).

A question was gnawing away at Harry's mind. "Say, Ron, why did you ever speak any of what you spoke since we told you we were together? I mean, you don't seem to particularly like Hermione or anything..."

"Well," Ron responded with a nervous laugh, "I just heard some tapping like that type-righter thingy Dad collects, see? And then even though it was terribly clichéd, if I were to be really jealous of you or something, I felt compelled to say it." Hermione and Harry looked at Ron oddly for a few moments. Ron squirmed a bit under their unrelenting gaze. "Well, I know how odd it sounds – I mean almost like a type-righter Imperius, but there we are."

Harry had a sudden vision of a large control room where Snape sat with a Mr. Burns-esque expression and pose, while Trelawney acted as the host/anchor for a TV show, dressed to impress (how?!), and declaring in an ethereally raspy voice, "Your lives are not really your own." He couldn't suppress the involuntary shudder.

"Let's just decide to never speak of this again, then?" Hermione proposed.

"Seconded," blurted both boys simultaneously.

"The motion is passed," she declared solemnly.

The conversation then turned to more solemn subjects like Quidditch and chocolate frogs.

It was nearly halfway into their journey back to London that Harry remembered about the oh-so-conveniently forgotten Dobby. If Sirius was going to stay in London, then he would need help. He did have an elf who was super-pleased with him. Maybe he could help?

"Dobby?" he called, almost feeling foolish about it.

"Great Master Harry Potter Sir is being calling!" Dobby squeaked/asked joyfully, as he hung upside down from the luggage rack.

"Hey mate!" Harry responded. He was still reeling from effects of the capitalised-word-slinging machine that was Dobby. "What are you doing these days?"

"Dobby is being free!"

"Oh."

"But Dobby is still liking to work Harry Potter!"

Harry smiled. "So would you like to work for my godfather, Sirius Black? I will pay you. A galleon and one day off a week, that's the non-negotiable deal."

"Sirius Black?" asked Dobby in a little anger. "Isn't he being hurting Master Harry Potter?"

"No Dobby, he is my innocent godfather." The voice in his head took offence at Sirius being described as innocent. "I am going to live with him as soon as we can get his name cleared."

Dobby pondered over the offer and then nodded vigorously. The three humans felt quite a bit nauseous at the sight. "Dobby works!"

"Good!" Harry gave Dobby a galleon. "That's your advance payment."

Dobby looked at the gold coin in awe and wonder, and Hermione wondered whether he would bite it and mutter, "Shiny!"

"Say Dobby, why do you shake your head so vigorously all the time?"

A blissful expression spread across Dobby's face. "It is being feeling go-o-o-o-d!"

* * *

"Master Harry Potter Sir's dogfather is being waking up!" squealed an excited voice near the great bearlike dog's head, causing him to bark on impulse. Dobby went on with his introduction. "Master Harry Potter is being asking Dobby to help Sirius Black! Dobby is being helping."

Sirius' brow creased. He never really liked the house-elves, but this one seemed fanatically devoted to Harry. Perhaps it would be good for him to take this one on. Merlin knew Kreacher was a blot on House-elves as he knew them. With this sort of help, he could get Moony to help him help Harry become strong and self-sufficient. Nobody really knew why they all pulled prank so much. Pranksters were always underestimated and ignored in the larger scheme of things. And if Harry's Patronus driving away Dementors was an indicator, Harry was constantly getting into trouble – rather was hounded by it.

Sirius knew it was time to initiate the Prongslet into the noble art. And Moony had to help. And Dobby was willing to help.

"Thank you Dobby. I would like it if you could help me around here."

"Great Master Harry Potter Sir's dogfather is as great as him!" Dobby squealed.

Sirius only grinned uneasily under the onslaught of the capitalised words.

* * *

The werewolf, who had been chased off from his best job (though not the highest paying – that had been when he had been a bodyguard for a political bigwig in muggle Japan) till date, had barely placed his bags on the decrepit hovel he had to call home, when an elf popped in and declared that he had a letter from "Great Master Harry Potter Sir's dogfather for the wolfie." The elf had then popped off before Moony could so much as raise an eyebrow at that.

 _Moony,_

 _How are you, mate? I am sorry for the job, I heard about you losing it. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending upon your perspective, it has come at a time when I need your help. Not for me, you know? It's mainly for the Prongslet._

 _Do you know anything about Prongslet's first two years at Hogwarts? I get the idea that everything is not hunky dory. Have you realised that Prongslet lives with the Walrus and the Mare? Something's really fishy._

 _If you are willing, I have ample place in the Black Country Home in Devon. I intend to help Prongslet live, and continue with the traditions of the Marauders, as an aside._

 _It was a relief meeting you again, mate. If you think you can help, this letter doubles up as a portkey, and you'd know the password of course..._

 _Yours in brotherhood,_

 _Padfoot._

Remus felt troubled for all of a minute. He had so many choices to make. It all came down to a few things. Should he go live with his brother who had distrusted needlessly for twelve years? Was it necessary to help the Prongslet?

The answers to both questions were resoundingly yes. So Moony took the portkey.

* * *

Harry was sitting on the... whatever it was that passed for his bed with a goofy grin. Between Hermione and Sirius, he had had quite a lot to feel happy about. Sirius had promised to get in touch within a fortnight, and it had given Harry hope. The enlisting of Dobby further bolstered it. And he was right to hope. A howler had made its way to the Dursley household three days before which had given them an ultimatum regarding any untoward treatment of Harry. It had also made the three walk, jump, hop and skip on each successive stride for two days.

"Master Harry Potter Sir!" squeaked the elf. "I is brings letter from Master Paddy!"

Harry leapt with outstretched hands and tore it open.

 _Mr. Harry James Potter,_

 _The Prongs-Moony-Padfoot Foundation (hereafter referred to as PMPF) is pleased to offer you a two month intensive internship. Under the tutelage of our esteemed professors, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, you will be given hands on experience in the noble art of trouble-making and its tactical uses. For your perusal, the objectives of the course have been enumerated below._

· _Making trouble._

· _Getting into trouble._

· _Getting out of trouble._

· _Getting others into trouble._

· _Choosing the better of two troubles to get into._

· _Pulling pranks: an art form._

· _Lying through your teeth in benign circumstances._

· _Making light of every situation._

· _Going under the radar._

· _Faux chivalry as a Champion of troublemakers._

 _Should you so choose to accept, you will be required to solemnly swear that you won't be up to any good as soon as you wake up every morning and summon the elf-express._

 _We wish you the very best, and look forward to embellishing our acquaintance with an exchange of knowledge and honing of talent, inherited or otherwise._

 _Yours in chaos,_

 _M/s. Moony and Padfoot_

This was awesome! Sirius and Professor Lupin were coming through, just as he wanted to. A new thought struck Harry. He could return to Privet Drive as late as he wished and pull the wool over Dumbledore's eyes and the old man wouldn't be able to complain. Sirius was really going to help him. This was surely going to be the best summer ever!


	2. Chapter 2

**The World Cup Prank – the Pain of Planning**

A/N: This is the obligatory change of writer note. It took time to get hold of a willing guinea pig among Harmonious' friends. Most people don't have a dead sense of humour as Cannons did, and now does in all senses of the word. Somehow, it's not funny.

Anyway, I have volunteered. This is ' **The AU No-Bashing Writer Alive** ' and I will be also continuing ' **The Wish of the Master of Death** ', and ' **The-Kop-Who-Scoused** ' shall continue ' **Prophetic Intervention** '. ' **The Godfather** ' is up for adoption. The form and direction of the story has obviously changed.

Warning for future chapters: references to very ribald behaviour, underage drinking and copulation. And impromptu renditions of Bee Gees songs; let's not forget that.

Herein, there is a part where the Death Eaters are likened to the Ku Klux Klan, indirectly. The objective is not to offend anyone – except any bigots still adhering to those beliefs.

* * *

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

A better, more apt alarm there couldn't be for a Marauder or an apprentice of even one of them. Then again, there could be. Sirius had enchanted an alarm clock for Harry to use. It would jump on his forehead yelling that statement five times. And of course there was no snooze button. The first morning, Harry had felt the full effects of the water conjuration rune Sirius had engraved. He had woken up plastered against the wall as the bloody thing shot a jet of water as thick as his hand.

He hadn't needed the reminder ever again, obviously.

Dressing up in fifteen minutes, the young wannabe Marauder gathered his prank supplies, carefully going over his plan to get those two reprobates he called family/uncles/teachers. This was his fifth attempt, as it were, to get them both simultaneously.

 _The first day when Harry had arrived at the Black Place in Hexworthy, he had been greeted with a faceful of stinksap. Once he had spat enough of it and vomited what he had ingested, he yelled, "What the bloody hell was that for?"_

 _Sirius looked at him in disappointment. In a manner that would have made Gilderoy Lockhart envious, the ex-prisoner put an arm around his godson's shoulders, steering him deeper into the house, while saying, "Harry, Harry, Harry! You disappointed me, dear godson. That was a Marauder's Hello!"_

 _"_ _A What's What?"_

 _"_ _A Marauder's Hello," Sirius repeated. "One does not simply walk into a situation where a prank can be pulled and not pull one or expect one not to be pulled."_

 _Harry blinked and looked at Sirius blankly for a moment as he tried to decipher the grammar and then the meaning of the sentence. Finally, he responded with an underwhelming, "Oh." Years later, he would remember the first teachings of his godfather when he encountered a meme on the internet, but that's a different matter of course._

 _Sirius frowned a bit. "That's your assignment, kid. You will attempt to prank Remus and me every day. Put your mind to it. It can be anything – non-magical, potions, runes, charms and transfigurations...anything!"_

 _"_ _I can do the non-magical," Harry replied slowly. "But with Snape supposedly 'teaching' Potions, me having not opted for Runes, and being pants at Transfigurations, I am pretty sure that I can't get you," he admitted morosely. "I can get you with Charms though."_

 _Sirius looked at Harry in despair and then with an extremely, comically horror-struck expression on his face wailed, "Moony!" Of course, since he had just been given orders to prank them, Harry did cast a light, but long pinching hex at Sirius' forearm. That caused the man to moo in a deep voice while calling for Moony._

 _Remus ambled into the room from just behind the door. "Well, we'll just have to teach the Prongslet more, won't we?"_

 _And so they had. Sirius had taken up potions and transfigurations, while Remus helped with Runes and Charms. Stories of James' ideas were liberally interspersed with the coursework. Harry had eventually got one over his godfather when he had slipped a mild Confundus Charm intertwined with a Compulsion Charm on a piece of paper that Remus had provided with a key phrase of some sort and a Babbling Potion in his butterbeer. Or so he had thought._

 _Remus wanted to know about a particular escapade of the Grim Animagus that had had in their fifth year. Sirius used to vanish for hours on end and return with a smug smile on his face. There were far too many (benign, compared to those pulled on the Slytherins) pranks pulled on the Hufflepuffs during that time, and Remus suspected Sirius._

 _It should be noted that he only_ _ **suspected**_ _Sirius of pulling those pranks. There was no accusation or disappointment at the actual act of pulling the pranks, but rather regarding the thoughtless behaviour of pulling them alone and not letting the others join in the fun._

 _As it turned out, the key phrase was "Your fifth year exploits". It was horrible. It turned out that Sirius' 'wand' chose just about every witch that year – barring Lily, of course. Had that happened, both Remus and Harry, even in their scarred states, were sure that James would have risen from the grave to bind Sirius' magic and 'snap his wand'. Harry would probably have done it too, on general principle. As it was, they heard a bit too much. It was only Remus clinging to him and consoling him and trying to remind him of Hermione that staved off Harry from wanting to declare a life of celibacy._

 _They finally stunned the man and washed the images away with Firewhiskey – the heady liquor purged them out of their systems violently._

Squaring his shoulders, Harry took a deep breath as he went to manfully face the daunting challenge.

Sirius was asleep on the sofa – mostly – with the TV (a recent addition) blaring in front of him. Remus was awake and reading. It was time. Wrapping his thick handkerchief/napkin tightly around his mouth and nose, something that thoroughly muffled him as well, Harry drew a powder from a packet in his pocket, muttered an incantation and threw it into the air. The action drew his Uncle/teacher's attention.

"Hello Harry!" Remus started and then clapped a hand over his mouth. It was a little girl's voice that was emitted from his mouth. Realising he had been pranked, Remus smiled benignly. Harry had yet to learn that this meant Remus had a way to get back at him.

"Well done, cub! I assume that was Tarabt's Vocal Vandal Powder?"

Harry suddenly found that he couldn't move his neck. Nor could he give the thumbs-up sign – that was clever, but unnecessary, in his humble opinion. He picked up a piece of parchment and searched around for a quill and some ink.

Sirius woke up as Harry attempted to ransack the house in his quest. In a voice resembling the falsetto that would have made the Bee Gees proud, he warbled, "What are you doing, Pup?" He then squeaked (it might have been an indignant, manly squawk, originally) and asked, "What happened to my voice?"

Remus smiled. "The pup pranked us."

"Did he now?"

Remus gave a short nod.

"Well we must prank him back in celebration, shouldn't we?"

"I agree."

It was rather obvious that the two men were assiduously ignoring each other's funny voices. Sneaking up on the boy, they grabbed him and ripped his protective mask off. Harry glared at his godfather and uncle as he felt the powder take effect.

"You know, pup," sang Sirius, his own voice grating on his ears, "the problem with powder pranks is that it is easy to get back at the prankster."

"At the very least, you could have made it difficult for us to remove the mask, you know," Remus continued.

"As if I wouldn't take care of that," Harry replied with a grin and in a voice that was squeaky but still close to his normal voice.

"How did you not get affected badly?" This was good. It would be Harry's first successful prank, and a good one at that.

"It wasn't Tarabt's powder. I based my own off it. The deeper your voice is in real life, the higher pitched it becomes," responded Harry sagely, though his continued grin marred the effect. "My voice is breaking. It sounds odd naturally. It can't work too badly on me. I just end up sounding like a ten-year-old instead."

"This deserves a prize, don't you think, Padfoot?"

"Oh yes. What do you think about the top box for the Quidditch World Cup?" Sirius proposed.

"The Most Wanted Criminal sitting with the Minister..."

"...Under disguise which the Minister and his cronies cannot realise..."

"...And watch the Veela cheering for the Bulgarians..."

"Awesome!"

All of a sudden, Harry realised that the Weasley twins could stake a claim to being the true followers of the Marauders' sect. This one hurt his ego, a bit. He had to prove his worth.

"Say, Padfoot, Moony, don't you think there will be a few poncy idiots in Fudge's company?"

"What do you mean?"

"Fudge brought along Malfoy to arrest Hagrid. Do you think he would bring him along for the final?"

"Ah. He would, wouldn't he?"

"Such a wonderful prank opportunity shouldn't go waste, Harry. You are right."

If anyone had seen the starry-eyed wonder that the two men who did not grow up and their charge who they wanted to prevent from growing up had, they would have shuddered.

* * *

Ron was reading the letter his best mate had sent in response to the letter he had sent about getting the tickets. Arthur had included one for Harry as well.

 _Ron,_

 _You told me about the Quidditch World Cup. I am looking forward to it. Find enclosed my ticket's cost._

 _I will not be staying with you lot, though we shall meet. I am coming with a dog and a wolf, if you know what I mean. Remember to bring lots of popcorn. Give the twins and Hermione a heads up, I forgot to put that in my letter to her._

 _Cheers mate._

 _Harry_

Ron stared at the letter. Then he decided that he was due a double dose of entertainment anyway, and it wouldn't do to over-think matters. Plus, Harry had asked for popcorn while they were watching Quidditch. He could hardly say no, could he?

* * *

After a mid-morning meet and greet with the Weasleys, and a longer and certainly more intimate tête-à-tête with Hermione, Harry, after much ribbing from Sirius and Remus, got down to the planning of the Great Marauding World Cup Prank.

Finding out about the itinerary, essential to ensure a good spectacle for the common masses (they were aiming big), was a piece of cake – they were selling those, after all, as was normal. For the average wizard, a mere matter such as operational security was alien. So they found further information about seating arrangements and such regarding the high profile spectators as well. So they knew that the Weasleys would be in the lowest rung of the top box with Hermione. They themselves would be in that rung at the very end, with Harry being joined by Melvin Grumble (known to the immediate friends as Remus Lupin) and his cousin Sylvester Crumble. The marauders still hadn't decided who was who.

In the rung just behind them, would be Fudge, Malfoy, and the man who put Sirius in jail without trial, Bartemius Crouch. Of course, that meant he would be the recipient of a Marauders' Greeting. There were also the Bulgarian Minister and the entourages of both Ministers, but of course that was another matter.

The three made their way to their seats very early and were the first in the box. It had to be done to ensure that the seats were well rigged. Sirius took great pleasure in setting up a Pressure-based ejector seat for Crouch. Since he didn't know who was accompanying him, he decided to rig both to average human weight. It was very funnily obvious that Lucius and Cornelius would sit together. Harry cast the prank spells – the ones that would put the prank into action. Remus was tasked with the time-delay component.

Harry wondered at the whole set-up. Why was it necessary to go to such extremes for a prank of all things?

"It is a matter of timing and opportunity, Pup," Sirius had explained. "It is never just a prank. It is a means of controlling what people think about us. It is always good to be underestimated. Remember the marauders' true motto."

Harry looked at him askance, and Sirius and Remus recited it.

"A troublemaker creates trouble to keep any troubles caused to him by others manageable as others clean up the mess of the trouble created by the troublemaker and can't create really troublesome trouble for the troublemaker!"

* * *

The Veela and the Leprechauns put up quite a show in which Sylvester (Sirius) shamelessly ogled the former and shouted out "fake gold-shitters" to the latter. This action was loud enough to catch their attention, and the little beings arranged themselves to give him the air message, "FUCK OFF!" Hermione's presence meant that while Harry managed to laugh at the latter, he studiously kept a calm face (Marauders' "I am innocent" expression #36) to put up a show of being unaffected by the former.

"Are you trying to say that Harry Junior is not happy to see them, Harry?" Hermione asked slyly. She could be an absolute minx. "You can't hide that you know."

With the patented Marauders' Witch-Wooer Witty Wordsmith ploy, improved by the Harry's Humbleness Charm, Harry looked at her sheepishly. This one was more difficult to pull off than the Wronksi Feint. "Harry Junior is Happy, Hermione." He squeezed her hand and looked away blushing (blushing was an important opportunistic art – it spoke much when nothing was actually spoken). "But it is not them he is happy to see."

"Good answer," Hermione replied with a wide grin and proceeded to show him just how good that answer was with a kiss that had the twins collecting galleons from their parents, and Draco calling Hermione a few choice names except mudblood. He seemed to have a modicum of sense - it wouldn't do to have the Minister hear him do so in a public setting.

Unfortunately, the tender moment was broken by the Crouch Ejector Seat triggering with absolutely no person sitting on it. The over-exaggerated noise of the spring and that of an elf popping away startled the two.

Glaring at his godfather, Harry asked, "Overzealous much?"

Sirius just shrugged. "Magic's a bit off since Azkaban," he replied.

Down on the pitch, a person with a broken neck, cloaked in an invisibility cloak died a _very happy_ death, (trampled) under the Veela. Nobody knew and nobody cared. Well, the elf probably did.

The game was about to start, when Harry leant over to Melvin and asked, "Wasn't the prank to be triggered by now?"

"It was, actually," Remus replied. He was honestly surprised that it hadn't. He answered the unasked question. "They can't charm people to be impervious to any such spells, you know. If they could, they would have found a way to stop people being imperiused. Did you put the trigger for the song that your radio will play?"

"Of course I did. I got Padfoot to tie it into your time delay. Sirius recorded it day before yesterday and has been gloating ever since. He seems to have forgotten that we gave the chorus."

The match ended with the Irish Chasers killing it off early. Krum decided that the team honour was not going to be satiated, so he would end the game on his terms.

It was a very disappointed group of Marauders that trudged back to the tents. The Quidditch was great, and the Irish had won, but the prank simply did not take off within the half hour delay they had put in. The plan had not even taken off, let alone survived any contact with the enemy.

"What the hell did you want the popcorn for?" Ron complained.

"We were going to pull a massive prank on Malfoy and Fudge. We must have made some mistake," Harry morosely replied.

"Do I want to know?" Hermione asked archly. She feared whatever they might have had in their minds. She respected her ex-Professor, but he was still a Marauder. Anyone who had the ability to inspire the Weasley Twins was a fearsome person in their own right, in her book.

"Never mind," Harry mumbled. "You have just eaten."

The matter was summarily dropped as Remus Lupin and his cousin and Harry moved their tent to some open space near the Weasleys'.

* * *

"Remus, Sylvester, Harry! Get up and move! It's the Death Eaters!"

The three groggily blinked at Arthur and the others, before finding their senses and grasping their wands (Harry had had the good sense of using the bloody side pocket holster that was available on every robe in the magical world and had a locking strap).

Sure enough, people in black robes and masks, so very obviously derived from muggle America, were rampaging and indulging in general debauchery after what was a drunken night of celebration. There was a moment of silence, followed by an outbreak of panic and shouting and everything else that the Death Eaters wanted the people to do out of fear. The lead Death Eater was blonde haired. Of course, it was Lucius Malfoy.

Sirius was ready to fire curses at his cousin by marriage, when all of a sudden a lone, pudgy figure ambled onto the scene. Simultaneously, the Death Eater removed his mask and the outer, well-ironed uniform (Voldemort was a stickler for those rules), _muggle_ -derived uniform, and approached the pyjama-clad figure.

Just behind the three reprobates, the radio started blaring out.

"Moony, did you by any chance, make a mistake with the timing?"

"It seems so, cub. It was supposed to be 0.5 hours. I seem to have missed the '0.' part."

"That's one hell of a lucky mistake."

The other Death Eaters had also stopped in their tracks as they started watching this unexpected drama. Fudge walked as if in a trance towards Lucius, who was completely bewildered. He looked at the mask in his hand – a sure shot proof of his criminality – and wondered why he had removed it in the first place. (Ron recognised the signs – it was the typewriter Imperius.)

"What exactly did you do to him?" the redhead and the bushy-haired witch asked their friend.

"He accused us of being confounded back in June, didn't he? Well, I just reversed the game. He thinks Lucius Malfoy is a Veela."

"Oh God!" moaned Ron. He went greener than the shamrocks. Hermione was fairly revolted by the diabolically horrible image.

The prank actually was much more complex – having adult wizards (by **_physical_** age only) cast some of the spells certainly helped. Cornelius Fudge was going to serenade Lucius Malfoy to the garbled lyrics of a muggle song. Sure enough, once the intro music was done, Fudge started to sing along.

"I know your eyes in the bony mask

Your spells leave many in moaning pain

And when you want some favours from me

I wanna be in your pockets again

And you come to me with hefty fees

Keep me filled from your vault

Then you smiling leave

And to me you always show

How deep is your vault! (How deep)

How deep is your vault! (How deep)

O-oh lo-o-ove, how deep is your vault"

Arguably, neither were the lyrics of any quality (they were more accusatory than anything), nor were the vocals anything approaching the original. But the sight of Cornelius taking Lucius' hand and going down on bended knee was enough to have several of the audience, Death Eaters included, moaning in protest. A few people who could look away long enough stunned some of them, but that was it.

"See all the gold I earn

'Cause we are livin' in a world of fools

Fooling around

When they all should let us be

It all belongs to you and me

I believe in you

You know the goal of my very soul

You're the pillar of my gilded ivory tower

I'm always at your beck and call

And you know how much I care for you

I know deep down inside, you do too

As to me you always show

How deep is your love! (How deep)

Is our love, how deep is your love

More than the gold I earn

'Cause we are livin' in a world of fools

Fooling around

When they all should let us be

It all belongs to you and me"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" another Death Eater, obviously female, hollered. She was crouched next to a smaller, shaking blonde-haired figure, curled up in a foetal position whom she had been cooing nonsense to and patting gently. The prone figure was that of Draco. Ripping her mask off, Narcissa stomped up to her husband.

Lucius had gone well past feeling shocked to lapsing into shock, and had become unresponsive. Fudge still had a worshipful, smitten look on his face and was still holding Lucius' hand **_which he had just kissed_**. To the Minister's addled mind, Malfoy was the epitome of beauty.

"Please tell me you haven't finished off the popcorn, Ron," almost the entire Weasley clan, Hermione, Harry, Remus and Sirius demanded as one.

"Heh, heh, heh... oops?" responded Ron sheepishly.

Ginny cast a deathly glare at her brother. The drama however saved him from being a victim of her bat-bogey hex.

Narcissa had taken Lucius' shocked silence as his acceptance or as proof of his...activities with the minister. "I KNEW IT!" she declared in vicious victory. "I ALWAYS SUSPECTED THIS, EVER SINCE YOU STARTED SPENDING MORE TIME AT THE MINISTER'S HOUSE INSTEAD OF AT HOME AND IN OUR BED!"

This, more than anything, jerked Lucius out of his stupor. "I DIDN'T!" he manfully whined. "I SWEAR THAT ISN'T SO!"

"Why do you deny me Lucy?" Cornelius piped in. He wasn't yelling but his anguished tone brought many sniggers, and was heard by everyone. "Why do you deny what we have?"

Lucius blanched and tried to jerk his hand away violently, only to stumble over his Death Eater robes, right into the Minister.

"I ALWAYS SUSPECTED, LUCIUS! WELL, IT'S NOT AS IF I DON'T HAVE ANY INSURANCE AGAINST THE LIKES OF YOU!"

"What do you mean?" Death Eating was only a part-time occupation, and didn't really pay well monetarily. The woman was a Black by birth, and Lucius feared what she might have done.

Narcissa had several grievances against her lawful husband. This was as good an opportunity as any to break away from him. "HAD I WANTED OUT, YOU WOULD HAVE TAKEN MY SON! WELL THANKFULLY, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO SO! HE ISN'T YOUR SON! HE IS SEVERUS'!"

This time, it wasn't only Ron who groaned, "Oh god!" Bloody hell was so inadequate an expression.

Lucius was crossed between bewildered and enraged. Narcissa had cheated, it was true, but the priority was to secure the Heir. The bitch could be cast out later. "HOW CAN THAT BE WOMAN? HE LOOKS LIKE ME! HE EVEN TOOK THE HEIR'S RING!"

"I BLOODY WELL CARRIED HIM FOR NINE MONTHS! I KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT! DRACO IS SEVERUS' SON!"

"But he doesn't even look like Snape!" Remus had had the good sense to dispel the Confundus charm from the Minister. It would do no good to let Harry be arrested.

Narcissa levelled a glare at the Minister. "You have no right to speak to me!" she hissed.

Draco, who had curled up into a ball, was now banging his fists on the ground in protest. He was joined by most of the Hogwartians. Snape and anybody, man or woman, was just too horrible to think about. The twins were holding onto each other and sobbing, staring into the open night sky and wishing it would swallow them. The others were similarly gagging as well.

"BUT THE MAGIC OF THE RING WOULD HAVE ENSURED..."

"YOU BETRAYED ME LUCIUS! SO I DID WHAT I WANTED TO!"

The drama was threatening to extend. Fortunately, someone had called for the Aurors, who shepherded the Death Eaters away along with the Minister, who had been found holding the hand of one.

Sirius stood stock still. "Snivellus procreated," he weakly rasped. "Oh God! He actually...he...Narcissa...he...eewww"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron who was still green. "This is horrible," Hermione said, in a very shaky voice. It was obvious that she was attempting to control the revulsion she felt.

"Tell me about it," Ron sobbed.

"All of a sudden, Draco threatening us with "When my father hears about this" has become a major inconvenience," Harry pointed out simply. "Draco's father can give us detentions."

"You are worried about detentions?" wailed Gred (or was it Forge?) "I will forever look at the white haired ponce who came from Snape's...bits... and...OH GOD!" The twin collapsed. "I will never ever become... I can't even feel like speaking it now..."

* * *

That night, just before they retired, each of them took a dose of the Dreamless Sleep potion.

"Moony?"

"Cub?"

"I am not sure I want to prank anyone ever again."

"I get what you are saying, pup. Sometimes a prankster does feel that it would have been better had the prank failed. A failed prank makes you feel sheepish. This though..." He gave a shuddering sigh. "One must learn to accept success, however scary it may be."

* * *

The song for this Chapter is 'How deep is Your Love'. And yes, that is a not at all subtle pop at the most ridiculous of story tropes – Harry is actually Snape's son.


	3. Chapter 3

**I didn't do it!**

A/N: This one is more on building up for the next ones. And well, there's Luna. The Cursed Child thingy is not considered.

 **Also, unlike canon, where calendars were myths, and 31** **st** **October 1994 was a** _ **Saturday,**_ **this story has 31** **st** **October 1994 as a Tuesday as it really was.**

* * *

In a decrepit house in Greater Hangleton, a very dirty, red and black, scaly, red-eyed, fanged baby was enjoying a game of Snake. Had this baby, housing the shade of one Lord Voldemort, realised that what it was enjoying would become a very popular muggle mobile phone game, he would have retched – and created more work for his minder.

Peter Pettigrew was no great shakes at transfiguration, but since the Dark Lord had threatened to set Nagini on him if he didn't comply and provide for the baby's playtime. So he had taken to summoning rats from the villages and stunning them and placing them on the floor while Nagini moved at weird angles. He had betrayed his human friends, so rats were no big deal anyway. When after eating twelve rats, she was blocked by herself, the game ended. Nokia really had to have a way to see that.

That set the Monster baby crying. "Waaah! Womtel!" it whined. Peter had the unfortunate duty of having to soothe the baby. As he approached it gingerly, he remembered Walburga Black. One particular thing that she had said to Sirius was very true for this baby.

She had called Sirius the shame of her flesh – something that the baby was for Peter, through some very dark rituals for the Baby-mort to be born in the first place.

"There, there, My Lord," he squeaked. "It's just a game! We will get you another!"

"NO! I wanna pway snake! Make Nagini eaf more!"

Even as a rat, Wormtail was feeling sympathetic towards the bloated snake which couldn't even summon up the energy to curl up. It seemed in dire need of digestives. Fortunately for it, the Baby had unwittingly spoken in Parseltongue, so it realised its intentions and with one burst of strength, slithered away. Volde-baby started crying again. This parental care thing was another thing Peter was absolutely poor at. Parseltongue took baby talk to an altogether new level. Knowing the kid's obsession, he proposed, "We can plan Potter's demise!"

The baby-mort thing giggled happily. "Yeth Womtel!" It lapsed into silence. "Bewfa Jowkins says that the Twiwizard iss in Hogwawts and Kawkawoff iss coming! Tell him to put Pottew's name into the cup as a student of a fouwf school!"

"But we will have to move to Bulgaria to meet him!"

"Stupid Womtel! I wiw caw him wif youw Mawk!"

"Yes Milord."

"And you wew stupid! Cwucio!"

Peter yelped and slapped the wand and hand away as the Unforgiveable hit him with all the force of a severe pinching hex. "Bad baby! Bad baby!"

Voldemort started crying again. "I am not bad baby!"

"You are a very bad baby! You should listen to me! Who's your daddy?"

The baby glared back. It grumbled about deserting pet snakes and idiotic minions who didn't realise what would happen to them once he was returned to his full power – by the very same minion.

"I couldn't hear. Who's your Daddy?"

"You are!"

"Good. So listen to me!"

Voldemort cried some more, before smirking and releasing a smell that resembled rotting...everything.

"Daddy? I juff did poopie!"

Peter groaned.

* * *

The rest of the summer after the World Cup was, for the others, as benign and as boring as could be. In retrospect, bragging about the prank to the twins was a terrible thing to do. It made them awestruck for precisely ten minutes, and then demoralised them so thoroughly that they did nothing but toss ideas of pranks at each other, day after day, only to be disappointed because no prank challenged the high standards set by the Marauders.

Of course, this meant that the Burrow had to listen to clanging pipes at all imaginable times, courtesy the ghoul, which replaced the series of blasts and bangs coming from the twins' room.

Thankfully for Harry, there was the internship with Padfoot and Moony. Of course, this had not been revealed – there was too much danger of his personal tutoring being spread across to include two more members at the very least. It was the sole positive of an otherwise drab summer. There were drab summers and then there was this really, really, terribly, horribly, boringly _drab_ summer for anyone who lived at the Burrow. Well at least he had Padfoot and Moony to live with – or was it deal with?

Anyhow, being away from the Dursleys, and being spared of a seemingly sombre and solemn Burrow, and getting to spend time with real family while learning the traditions of said family, meant that the summer of '94 were the best days of his life so far.

So it was with a heavy heart that Harry left for Hogwarts on an extremely wet September the 1st. It was so different, in fact, that the Weasleys even reached the station early! Of course, Arthur, Charlie, and Bill being around to calm Molly's frazzled nerve helped. This meant that the morning passed of smoothly – too smoothly.

It was also why the train's announcement system was hijacked. There was nobody for Harry to share his newfound talents with – Hermione and pranks got together just as well as Hermione and broomsticks, which was to say they were enemies. The Weasleys were thoroughly bored of the boredom and insipidity of the summer past, barring the World Cup, where the twins had been shown up in the prank stakes, resulting in them practically losing their inspiration to pull pranks.

As it happened, every passenger on the train was soon listening to Gregory Goyle's emerging baritone as he hummed some songs by Blodwyn Bludd. Vincent Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode were the willing audience in the compartment, bereft of Draco Malfoy...uh...Snape (he was taken in by his...father...after his parents had been arrested) and tagged with a listening spell. A thoroughly baffled but just as completely pleasantly surprised Gregory never realised why he was the centre of some adulation.

* * *

The declaration about the TriWizard Tournament filled Harry with a sense of foreboding. It also tore him a bit. For one, it was an excellent event to prank and disrupt. On the other hand, he was sure to get embroiled in it. Of course its participants would be declared on Halloween. Of course there would be some rules meant to keep him away (well, not just him), thankfully. And of course, those two would clash spectacularly and the Halloween curse would win.

Then he hated it because it was put in place of Quidditch. A shared scowl with the three Weasley brothers meant that they too had caught onto that fact, just before Dumbledore declared it. This needed some serious action. He had to find a way to ensure that even if he got caught into that tournament somehow, he would have people on his side – particularly someone who was known to **_not_** be on his side.

And then he remembered the perfect candidate.

 _The latest part of Harry's training was misdirection._

 _Sirius was standing, looking ridiculous in his attempts to emulate Moony's '_ professor _' persona near the blackboard which had a drawing on to describe a prank. In all honesty, it was a Heath Robinson mechanism for causing Moony to trip into a conveniently placed vat of glue and wool. There was a greater chance of success if Moony was left alone to his own devices after being forced to down a few glasses of firewhiskey. Of course, Sirius was concentrating on the end effect – a wolf in sheep's clothing._

 _"_ _When planning a spectacular prank," Sirius lectured, "you should always have another, medium-to-high-level prank at the ready. Can you tell me why?"_

 _Harry thought for a moment, before brightly answering, "In case the spectacular prank is a bust, the other prank can help save face."_

 _Sirius' face slackened comically. "That might have been the reason why Prongs always had one waiting in the wings for all pranks," he conceded. Then gathering himself back again, he trudged on, "But that's not what I am trying to teach. The technique I am trying to tell you about involves accepting punishment."_

 _"_ _WHAT? WHY?"_

 _"_ _So that you can say "I didn't do it!""_

 _"_ _Why plan for a prank and get caught and then say I didn't do it?"_

 _"_ _What are you talking about?" asked Sirius._

 _"_ _What are_ you _talking about?" Harry could get confused by the simplest things at the best of times. He had learnt to get around the walking madness that masqueraded as his godfather, but sometimes it was still difficult._

 _"_ _What I am talking about is being able to say "I didn't do it!" with regards to the spectacular prank that can possibly get you into detention for the rest of the year."_

 _"_ _So why didn't you just say that we make a prank-detention alibi?"_

 _"_ _Ah. Yes. We make a prank-detention alibi. I just thought that you had problems with big words."_

 _Harry glared at his innocent-but-not-so-innocent godfather. "Have you done that?"_

 _"_ _We did. There was that time when Bellatrix Lestrange was having a party with all her Vulture and Hyena chums..._

 _"_ _Vultures and Hyenas...I get it... hee-hee-hee...the Death Eaters, right?"_

 _"_ _Yes. Them," Sirius batted aside Harry's interruption. "So she was having a recruitment party and we found out about it before and decided to play caterers. It was a blast! Every time those idiots would go to the buffet table to serve themselves and poke the serving ladle in, a dungbomb would go off. And you know the sort of awful odour it spreads. It wasn't much of a party. But Malfoy and Bella guessed it would be us and complained. As it so happened, we were all serving detention with Filch at that time. He is the best for such a detention. Everyone knows that he never lets people serving a detention under him to escape."_

 _This tale enthralled Harry as did the 'cheat' that Sirius had inserted. Passing on the experience built over a career of seven solid years meant that both Sirius and Moony had the tendency to slip in such pointers, which had been compiled into cheat sheets. Had it been another subject Hermione would have been proud of the meticulous notes Harry had taken. Pranking was a Sirius...er...serious subject._ (Customary cliché Sirius-serious pun inserted: check.)

 _At that moment, from Moony's room came a terrible yell. Harry smiled. He'd got Moony and Padfoot by the werewolf's own Potioneer's Instincts Ploy._

 _"_ _YEEEAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!" hollered Remus. "Get this thing off me! Get this thing off me! GET THIS BLOODY MONSTER OFF ME!" he yelled as he wrestled with the innocuous little puffskein Harry had set on him while he was asleep._

 _Puffskeins ate the boogers of children, but as nobody was a child, technically, the poor hungry creature had evidently decided to eat what was available. As for Moony, ex-DADA professor or not, the very notion of having something stick its tongue into one's nose was as disconcerting as anything imaginable._

 _Sirius cast a well directed banishing charm at the creature just as Moony managed to free himself momentarily and tossed it away with another, only to now find himself at the end of its ministrations and Moony's wand._

 _"_ _You put that thing in my room!"_

 _"_ _I didn't!" Sirius protested as he attempted to protect his boogers._

 _"_ _You did! There was dog hair in my room! I checked just before that bloody monster decided it would attack me again while I was awake!"_

 _"_ _I didn't!"_

 _"_ _You did!"_

 _"_ _I didn't!"_

 _"_ _You did!"_

 _Harry smiled victoriously as the two thirty three year old toddlers fought and the hungry Puffskein had two big sources and couldn't decide which to choose. He had collected Padfoot's hair as soon as Moony had taught him the Ploy. Padfoot shed like any dog._

Yes. That was the mission. He had to get detention from Filch, after dinner, and preferably with another witness, and for as long as the cantankerous caretaker could possibly stretch it. And he realised that he had just the candidates for the witnesses.

The other worry was Mad-Eye Moody. Harry hadn't realised that Sirius and Remus hadn't realised that in putting their pranks into practice and preparing for the same, they had been exercising CONSTANT VIGILANCE. Anyhow, they had drilled the necessity of finding out every person to be affected by the prank, or those that could affect it.

That apart (barring Moony) he had been the target of two of his previous three DADA teachers. So he would have to check this one well before he caused trouble. Troublemakers always checked out for sources of trouble for them. As either a DADA teacher or as an Auror, Moody could well be such a source.

So he had brought out the Map, which had immediately told him that Moody was, in fact, Moody. Alastor was his real name. So on that account, there was no problem. At least he wasn't an imposter, or worse, possessed as Quirrel was. A talk with the twins had revealed that the Map had flitted between Tom Riddle Jr. and Quirunus Quirrel.

He was just about to close the map, when he saw a lone figure walking around Ravenclaw Tower. It was Luna Lovegood.

"Ron!" Harry hissed. "Ron! Wake up!"

"G'way!" Ron mumbled.

"Get up you git, there's something on the Map!"

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Ron got up. "Wassamatter?" he groaned.

"This girl Luna Lovegood, is she related to the Lovegoods that your Dad said lived around your place?"

Ron glared at Harry and then he glared at the Map. "You woke me up for Loony?" He then frowned as he saw Luna wandering around at midnight. Harry frowned a bit. Ron was not always the kindest person, but he still caught up with things fast, sometimes. And by 'fast', it refers to the German meaning of the word, which is 'almost'. "What's she doing outside at this time?"

That answered Harry's questions. "We should find out, don't you think?"

"Yeah," he answered with a yawn. "Just get the Twins, I think. They will know better – they studied that Map for four years."

Harry nodded. Ron was occasionally capable of logical suggestions.

A few minutes later, the four had caught up with Luna Lovegood. Bereft of shoes and wearing only a **_very_** long shirt, she was walking along and sobbing slightly.

"Luna, wait!" George called out. It was a matter of neighbourly care and the he wouldn't be found wanting.

"Hello Weasleys. Hello Harry Potter." Luna was sad.

"Hello. We are not going to ask questions, Luna, but we are going to take you to Gryffindor tower. Hermione's dorm has an extra bed in it, if you would like it." Fred's proposal was acceptable.

The real reason why no questions were asked was because they were sure it would likely result in lots and lots of hexing. Hermione was the cooler head.

Once Luna had been handed over to Hermione, Harry spoke out. He had a wicked grin on his face, one that reinvigorated the twins.

"What do you think about participating in a prank pulled by the Son of Prongs, the Godson of Padfoot and the Nephew of Moony?" he asked. There was no need to explain. The twins were cleverer than they let on, like all good pranksters.

"No wonder, your prank worked!" Fred cried. "I thought we had lost out to someone inferior, but you are pranking royalty! We are in!"

"Excellent!" cackled Harry with a grin. "Here's the plan..."

* * *

For the ensuing two months, the Weasley twins' pranks were of the most benign variety. It wasn't because they were still regrouping. Prongs' son's prank targeted bullies. And given the sheer shame factor involved, they had reined their wayward pranks in. One did not simply go up against the person who had pranked the minister and made his life hell, and in a manner that shamed him and a bunch of Death Eaters. No. There was no way they were going up against that. Also, the blonde git who'd have been a wonderful target was...untouchable. Every time the poor duo zeroed in on Draco, their minds were filled with images of Snape and Narcissa Black going at it, of their own volition. It always ended up scarring them mentally, a self-inflicted prank of epic proportions. It was particularly horrible because Narcissa by herself was the stuff of teenage male dreams.

On the other hand, Ron, and Harry and Hermione, were constantly checking the map. Somehow, whenever someone was bullied, Fred and George appeared on the scene. Within Ravenclaw, it was Luna who checked – she just had to be invisible and observe. Most days, she slinked into the background. Her friends were going to pull a massive prank which would be a double prank in reality.

Two months was a long time for the list to be perfected.

* * *

"Hermione, have you and Luna checked through the powder?" It had been difficult, convincing her. But when Harry explained how he most likely would end up in the TriWizard Tournament, she relented – and then rectified two errors in the plan.

"Yes Harry."

"Are you ready for your position by the Cup, twins?" They were going to set up the night-watch.

"Ron, the entire list is checked?"

"Yes." He was to monitor the bullies and stay out of the way with Hermione and Luna, otherwise. Hermione had coaxed him into adding all the worst bullies from their second year, and the Heir of Slytherin fiasco. Ron of course had added one more on the sly. It would prove to be a masterstroke.

"Harry, have you managed to find and charm the correct song?"

"Yes Harry, I have."

Harry received five stares and a poke from his girlfriend. "What?"

"Did you ask yourself that?"

"Well, I felt a little left out."

Hermione could only snort. "You are a prat Harry."

"I am. I am your prat." He gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

"Your Prongslet-y-ness, please teach us," Fred begged as Hermione erupted into a blush. Harry always ensured that she and everyone else knew that he was her boyfriend. He was rather adamant about that. Ron pretended to gag. Luna smiled dreamily.

"It is pure instinct, boys. With the right person, it just flows," Harry replied patronising condescension. It was important to give true compliments, and well, it really did come easily with Hermione. "But really, it is just the Prongs-y genes. Sorry, you aren't lucky enough for those, mates. Padfoot and Moony showed me my dad's memories. He was like that when he was with mum." Then he went green, all of a sudden.

"What's the matter?"

"They also showed me a memory of my Granddad giving them all The Talk." Harry shuddered violently. "Dad asked questions and related everything Grandpa said to my mum. And I only have their photographs, but they are my parents, and when dad spoke, my mind immediately went there and..." Harry shuddered again.

"Honestly Harry!" Hermione scolded. "Obviously they did that. How else would you be born?"

"That's my parents we are talking about!"

"And it is perfectly natural."

"Hermione, take it from us," Fred cut in. "You don't want to go there."

"Yes," George added sombrely, though he looked quite a bit green as well. "Parents and thoughts of _that..._ People should never be exposed to such harsh truths about their parents."

"You can't honestly believe that."

"You didn't walk in on your parents, did you?"

Hermione frowned. "No."

"We did..."

"...we were small, you know, just twelve..."

"...innocent little boys we were..."

Everyone snorted, bar the twins. Innocence was related to these two as much as Harry and Voldemort were.

"It was just after our first year..."

"...it was a sweltering summer night..."

"...when we heard groans and moans..."

"...and we were sure that the ghoul had eaten Ron and had come down the stairs..."

"So we checked his room and the ghoul wasn't there, though he was..."

"...so we followed the noises..."

"...noises which were coming from our dad and mum's room ..."

"...so we were sure that the ghoul was going to eat them..."

"...we knew a fair few spells..."

"...so we attacked and threw the door open..."

"And well, I suppose you get the idea," George completed with a violent shudder of his own.

"Well, I suppose that takes the top prize in awkwardness. I only had my momentary imagination. You had a true visual to go with it," Harry declared in a small voice. If thinking of James and Lily was bad, thinking of Molly and Arthur was worse. He had actually seen and could remember them as real, living people. Snape-Narcissa, an image which most likely had replaced Dementors as Harry's boggart, was immediately replaced by Mrs. Weasley's lusty moans as she called out to her husband in passion. It caused Harry to whimper involuntarily.

"We saw that," Fred replied, astutely realising what Harry must have imagined.

"And we heard it," added George.

"I – I just think we should get on with our original prank," Ron suggested in a strangled voice. A still unconvinced Hermione, a silent but very wholly amused Luna, Harry and the Weasleys broke up to perform their parts of the prank.

* * *

Once the announcements for the evening had been made, the plan was sprung into action. Bullies across houses found a small extra of whatever they had eaten on their plate, and amusingly, thought nothing of it.

All the people ate that extra piece laced with a compulsion charm as one, and sure enough, they faced colic troubles. Before they were even sure of what was happening, each of them broke wind. Well, they broke odourless wind in giant pink coloured letters that seeped through their clothes, which acted as filters for the odour; so of course the odour stuck to them. The letters formed the word 'BULLY' above their heads. It was a vicious prank on vicious bullies.

It was all as expected, till things went wrong and Snape – the Potions Master – was caught, as was his son. Harry paled. Minerva caught the expression, even though nobody else did. Ever since Dumbledore had told her that that boy, Black, was innocent, and who had helped him escape, she had known that he would corrupt Potter. Black couldn't have been innocent – on general principle – just as he couldn't have been a Death Eater. She just mouthed, "My office!" for the teen to understand that his foray into embarrassing pranks had successfully failed to fail.

Of course, he wasn't going to take the fall for the prank alone. He nudged Ron in the ribs hard enough for the boy to choke on his chicken – which of course had gone in without the courtesy of being bitten off the bone. As such, the nudge and the bone both choked Ron. His eyes began to water as he flailed his arms frantically. Harry immediately gave his best mate's back a few hard thwacks. Never the ones to miss the opportunity to take the mickey out of Ron, the twins added a few resounding thwacks of their own. It was enough to cause Ron to stand up, once the bone was dislodged and very un-artistically expelled from his throat to retaliate.

"I want you four in my office, RIGHT NOW!" hissed Minerva as she stood at Ron's shoulder. Never – never – had Gryffindors brought the school such shame. So much shame in fact, that she had had to descend upon them from the Head Table. Harry had a hard time hiding his glee.

Sure enough, McGonagall gave them all a massive firing in her office, before assigning them detentions with a gleeful Filch (who was grinning with an expression bordering on insanity) through that very night. And of course they got to clean the trophy room. And of course, Harry tarnished Tom Riddle's trophy by every possible means, thereby having to clean it over and over and over. And of course, Harry poured enough of the cleansing agent per iteration of the cleaning process, that the trophy started wearing off. Any person attempting to read the name would see 'To Diddle', probably, because with the letter 'm' and the lower part of the 'R' obliterated it could as well have been a capital D. He reckoned that he should have achieved an award for obliterating that shameful part of the school's history.

By four thirty a.m., Harry was escorted by Filch (the others were allowed to leave early). He had his alibi.

* * *

"MR. POTTER!" scolded McGonagall, shaking the boy out of his mid-lecture slumber. A sniggering bunch of classmates didn't exactly make for a happy awakening, but there it was. The 31st October was a Tuesday (in non-fictional realities conforming to Gregorian Calendars), so the Gryffindor, deprived of sleep due to the alibi-detention, had no respite. Well, that was a small sacrifice really.

"Yes, Mr. Filch, I've cleaned all those damned trophies. Lemme sleep!"

McGonagall was torn between grinding her teeth in anger and a reluctant smile at the antics which reminded her of the boy's scamp of a godfather. Then there was the anger at being mistaken for Filch. As a cat animagus, the constant companionship of the caretaker with Mrs. Norris gave shivers. It gave her a positively Umbridge-cum-Snape-esque expression – not that the students knew that. It certainly spooked everyone however.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for sleeping in class, Mr. Potter!" scolded the Transfiguration teacher. "And ten more, I believe, for your language!"

"Thank you, Minnie Cat."

McGonagall opened her mouth to gape as the class burst into chortles. She knew the reference, having caught Lily Potter laughing about it. Apparently Minnie was a muggle cartoon mouse. She wanted to hand Potter more detentions, but then decided that that honour should actually be bestowed upon Black and Lupin.

She thought the Headmaster was senile ever since he had suggested that Mrs. Norris and she should be the best of friends, and that Mrs. Norris could probably be convinced to be the godmother to her children, if she did get married. Unfortunately, she was forced to revaluate that opinion. It was a very good thing that Black hadn't raised Potter.

She had never ended a class in such an undignified manner before.

* * *

As Ron and Hermione half-dragged a drowsy Harry to the Gryffindor common room, the redhead couldn't help chortling.

"What is it?" snapped Hermione.

"You know, today is Halloween."

"And?" she demanded.

"And since there seems to be no other way in which he could get into trouble, he created some trouble for himself."

Hermione snorted, before Harry replied. "Don't jinx it, Ron. There's still the bloody Goblet. Bare four cats?"

With the recent incident of his best friend calling McGonagall a cat in class still too fresh, Ron turned decidedly green. "Bare what?"

"Ewww! Don't bare anything! I asked you whether you'd care for a bet."

"No. In spite of your measures against it, your luck is horrible enough for that," answered Hermione.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Ron in a very perplexed manner.

"You'll see..." answered Hermione.

* * *

The next part of the prank kicked off almost as soon as the feast started. The Jack-o-lanterns first started flying around cackling in the hall, before each settled on the head of a bully. This newly formed choir presented a wonderful vocal rendition of Toccata and Fugue (D Minor). By now everyone knew who had pulled the prank, with Snape raging about Potter and his godfather.

Oddly enough, the prank got them points.

"Thank you for such a wonderful rendition of a piece of music that encapsulates the theme of today," Dumbledore declared grandly. "Twenty points to each of the performers and the orchestrators of this event."

McGonagall's eyes bugged a bit when she found out that one more Gryffindor than she had counted, including the bullies, had got points. She assumed it would be Lee. Then her eyes bugged out more to compete with the eyes of the subject of Dumbledore's next impromptu announcement.

"As our esteemed Potions Master, Severus Snape has led the choir in this piece, it behoves me to announce the start of the Hogwarts School Orchestra, and a special elective in Magical Music. The classes will of course, be conducted by Professor Snape."

A Hogwarts record of the wettest group food/drink spray was made that night. Interestingly, there were foreign participants as well, in spite of them knowing of the man only for a day.

"You know what this means don't you?" Harry asked his girlfriend.

"What?"

"When Mal- Snape says "when my father hears of this..." _Professor_ Snape will hear us and correct our notes."

"At least he can do that here. He never does it in Potions," she replied dryly.

As it was, several cleaning Charms had to be cast on everybody before the names could be announced.

When they were, people edged away subtly from Ron, fearing that they would be caught in the spray of some bodily fluids when both Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were announced. He seemed to be more than just _excited_ , blissfully so. Friends they might be, but some things are always supposed to b strictly private.

The announcement of Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts Champion was no surprise either.

An even smaller surprise, to those who were preparing for it, was Harry's name coming out of the Goblet.

"Hey! Stop that!" protested Harry as soon as Dumbledore bade him to come. "I never put in my name!"

"Cheating and then crying out about your innocence, are you, Potter?" asked Karkaroff with a sneer.

Harry ignored him. "Well, I don't care who this idiot is, but you can ask Mr. Filch who was overseeing our detention till half past four this morning. I even lost points in Transfiguration for sleeping in class because of that."

"Mr. Filch nearly killed us with the cleaning sir," Ron and the Twins added in support. "He nearly set that demon cat on us sir. And you don't know the time and effort it takes to come up with that Taco and Fudge song and charm it onto these gits. When was he supposed to do that?"

Hermione slapped her forehead as did the Twins, Luna and Harry. Ron's Runaway Mouth was always a problem.

Snape snappily sang out "Detention!" in response. That would be the third of the week.

"They are being speaking the truth, Headmaster," Filch agreed proudly. "He is even serving another detention on Saturday after he destroyed one of the trophies which he was cleaning. I didn't let him sleep a wink while he cleaned sir. Can I eviscerate him for destroying the trophy?"

This pronouncement made everyone look at the man oddly. Such threats against a student were not considered normal or acceptable among school staff in most civilised schools.

"He was always in the trophy room, was he?"

"Yes sir. Didn't let him move an inch, I didn't. Even threatened him with a few cracks of the whip for defiling that trophy, I did."

"So he has an alibi then," declared Dumbledore.

A long spell of deliberations went on between the three Heads of Schools with Karkaroff doing his utmost to malign Harry, Madame Maxime taking the stance that Harry was not at fault since he couldn't have put in his name and the alibi was a good one, and Dumbledore trying to elicit a response from the gigantic woman by tickling her chin with his Wizard's Hat – literally. He was mightily affronted by the fact that the woman was taller than him, if his face was anything to go by.

The end result was still the unwanted one. Harry had to compete.

"Just out of curiosity, though, my boy, can you tell me which trophy you defiled?"

"The one that Tom Riddle got sir," answered Harry tongue-in-cheek.

"What did you do to it?"

"Sent him a message, sir."

"What message would that be?"

Filch brought them the trophy to see. Everyone saw the rude message and started snickering.

"And what does this message mean?" asked Dumbledore. He kept asking as he was the only one who knew who Tom Riddle later became.

"I was taught about the birds and the bees by my close family this summer sir. I figured it was all the frustration that turned him into Voldemort. Perhaps it may help calm down a bit."

* * *

"Petew!" shouted the demon-baby. "How did Pottew know what is goof fo' me an' you didn't? Diddle me!"

"You are too young for that!"

"I am youw mastew!"

"I am your Daddy!"

"Diddle me daddy!"

Peter cursed the Potter boy for his very existence.

"Now I wanna punish Kawkawoff!" demon-baby declared once it had urinated all over Peter's hands. "He coudn' take away Pottew's fweinds and make ewwyone caw him a cheatew. He is a cheatew. I cast the Killing cuwse and he didn't die. Pottew iss a fiwthy cheatew!"

The constant whining of the Dark Lord was a fair approximation of the Snape-Malfoy hybrid brat and it got on Peter's nerves.

"We can't go there my lord."

"I wanna! I wanna! I wanna!"

Peter seriously contemplated being around Nagini in his rat form


End file.
